My Angel of the Dawn (WomanxBoy, ManxBoy, Sci-Fi + Romance)

***3***

She should have taken off her shoulder rig, as she was used to do aboard her own ship. But she skipped that part because of another long-time habit — not to go unarmed in the presence of strangers.

She holstered her weapon, picked up the towel off the floor and approached the boy, trying to appear non-threatening. "Here, take it, wipe the blood," she said as calmly as she could, handing the towel to him. Her voice still held an edge, though. "I'm not gonna hurt you, calm down."

He sobbed, hugged her boots and started to beg fervently, stumbling over the words, "Mistress, it's my fault, please, punish me any way you want, have me whipped, but please, please let me stay, don't sell me to a brothel!"

"Oh hell," she said again and tried to hoist him up on his feet. He clung to her knees and kept begging, "Please, mistress, please, anything but the brothel!"

"Will you bloody calm down? I'm not gonna sell you!"

"Thank you, mistress, thank you!" the boy seized her hand and tried to kiss it. "I'll do whatever you say. I'll be anything you want. You'll never regret buying me!"

Hell, this is madness. Damn Alric had probably overdosed him on that 'harmless' shit.

Nelsa bent over the boy, took his face into her hands, fixed her gaze on his and said, slowly and clearly, "Listen to me carefully, lad. Shut you mouth and don't say another word unless I ask you to. Now, take your hands off me — yeah, that's a good lad. Tilt back your head and don't move."

She picked up the towel from the floor — the second time this evening, and went to wet it in the sink. When she returned the boy was kneeling exactly as she had left him, his head thrown back, his eyes still trying to follow her every move, even in this uncomfortable position.

"Wipe off the blood," Nelsa said, holding out the towel.

He obeyed.

"This might hurt a little." She carefully felt his nose with her fingers. Not broken, thank God, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

"Now you can lower your head. I'll ask again, what's your name, lad?"

"I'm a slave. I have no name," he whispered into the towel. "Master Alric's guests called me whatever they wanted."

"That won't do. You should have a name. Tomorrow we'll go get your freedman papers in town, and that does require a name. And a surname. The notary will ask, what are you gonna tell him?"

Startled blue eyes fixed on Nelsa. "Sorry, mistress, I thought you said..."

"I said 'freedman papers', yes," Nelsa confirmed softly. "You won't be a slave, I'll get the papers done tomorrow. I would have done it today, but it's too late, everything is closed. So would you stop with the 'mistress'? My name is Nelsa. Nelsa Thorn."

"My name is... Ariel," his voice faltered, and tears rolled down his cheeks. "Ariel Dominique."

"Wow, it's almost like the Archangel's. Don't worry, I won't call you 'angel' like that bastard Alric."

Yeah, right, Nelsa, what a nice thing to say.

The boy's lips quivered. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.

"Oh God, what did that bloody bastard pump you with?" Nelsa sighed, patting his shoulder. "All right, enough sniveling. Go wash your face, and let's have supper."